Jet Lagged
by SamuraiSal1
Summary: England gets a call from America at midnight. Really, it was as if America had no concept of Time Zones. It wasn't as if England minded, though, especially if it meant that America would show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night.


England really didn't know when he'd fallen asleep. Honestly, he hadn't even known he'd fallen asleep—one minute he was reading, the next he was _seeing_. Not that it made much of a difference to him, really. If anything, his dreams were more captivating than the book. The story he'd been reading, after all, was old and outdated, and he swore he had to sneeze from the amount of dust that had flown into the air upon opening it.

Really, he wouldn't have even known he'd fallen asleep until much, much later, but unfortunately, a cell phone just had to have rung and startled him from his dreams.

Groggily, England blinked his eyes open and reached for the phone, flipping it open and holding it up to his ear. The person on the other end said nothing for a while, and with a sigh, England realized that it'd have to be he who spoke first.

"…H…Hello?" he asked, fighting a yawn. He didn't even know what time it was… Hadn't it been late afternoon when he'd fallen asleep…?

"Oh, hey, dude!" a (sadly) familiar voice on the other end of the line said, and England pulled the phone further away from his ear.

"…Hello, America. Might I ask why you called?" he asked, fumbling with the book on his lap. With a frown, he snapped it shut and, go figure, sneezed at the dust.

"To say 'hey', of course!" America proclaimed, laughing just as obnoxiously as he always had. England breathed a sigh, sitting up and smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt.

"Not that I mind being woken up at…" he said sarcastically, glancing at his watch. "Nearly midnight, but why are you calling at such a late hour?"

"Huh?" America asked, seemingly confused. "It's, like, midnight there? No wonder you sound so crabby…"

"You haven't answered my question," the elder nation said with a sigh, standing up slowly and making his way to a light switch. England frowned at the collection of used dishes and made a mental note to take care of them in the morning. He looked around for a moment for the shoes he knew he'd taken off, but unfortunately, couldn't seem to find them. "Why are you calling me at such a bloody awful time?"

"'Cause we always get to say good morning…" America whined. England just sighed again.

"It's midnight here, you idiot. I need to sleep." With a huff, he started to walk over to the stairs, having sighted his slippers at last. England slid into them with a grateful sigh, then sat down on the bottom stair.

"But Iggy…"

"Please don't call me that," England said, sighing again. He rubbed his temples a moment, briefly wondering if the coffee that America was constantly bragging about could actually cure people of their tiredness. Knowing America's tendency to exaggerate, he highly doubted it.

"Somehow, you don't sound up to arguing," America said with a laugh. England just frowned, though he knew that the other couldn't see.

"Glad to see that you've finally learned how to read a situation."

It was quiet for a moment, and England finally got sick of it. "What time is it over there, anyways?"

"Eh… about three?" America said, laughing quietly. "In the afternoon, that is."

The line was quiet again for a moment. "…I thought you said you wanted to call to say good morning, America. You don't mean to say that you honestly just woke up, do you?"

More silence, and finally, America sighed, breaking the quiet. "…So?" he asked, laughing again. "It was a Saturday morning and everyone knows that Friday nights last until, like, two in the morning. You gotta appreciate the small things, man."

England was quiet, staring into space for a moment. He wasn't really thinking anything, just trying to clear the foggy mess that was his brain, but he knew how impatient America was. "I suppose it can be forgiven. You're the collective emotion of America, yes?" he said with a laugh. "Just goes to show that your people are much lazier than mine."

"I take offense to that, dude."

England laughed. "And rightly so. It doesn't mean that it isn't true, though."

America gasped, and England stared at the phone for a minute, as if that would show him America's expression. "…Dude. You just, like, laughed. Maybe you should get to sleep, dude!"

The older nation frowned sourly, then found himself laughing uncontrollably. It lasted for a while, but thankfully, it passed, and he could breathe again. "…Any other time I'd say that I would be sleeping if someone hadn't called me at midnight, but…"

"But you're too tired to form a 'proper' response, right?" America said with another laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, dude. It's time you got some shut-eye. Sorry for waking you and stuff."

"Not…" England yawned, then continued. "It's never a problem. Just try to remember next time, alright? I'd best turn in for the night, then. Goodnight, America."

"Yeah, yeah, 'night, Iggy."

England was too tired to protest the improper use of his name, and hung up.

Somehow, he managed to drag himself upstairs and into his bed, but far be it from him to do anything other than that until morning.

XXX

The next day, it was much the same situation.

England had (somehow) managed to fall asleep halfway through one of his more exciting novels, and had he been conscious, he probably would've blamed America for his tiredness. However, when his phone rang, he wasn't even coherent enough to realize that it was, again, very, _very_ late.

"Hello?" he managed, yawning.

"Yeah, mornin', England!" America said, and the island nation could just hear the smile in the other's voice. England groaned, pulling himself into a standing position.

"Didn't I tell you just _yesterday_ not to call me at this ungodly hour?" England raged into the phone, once again looking for his shoes. Unfortunately, this time he'd forgotten about the book on his lap, and it clattered to the floor. Cursing lightly, he picked up the book and set it carefully onto the couch, as if treating it like china then would forgive him for dropping it and probably breaking its spine. "We live in different time zones, you bloody idiot!"

"…Ah, about that…" America said, laughing lightly. "Could you open the door? It's raining."

England stared at the front door for a moment, blinking slowly. "…What?"

"Oh, c'mon, England!" America laughed, louder this time. "I know you're slow when you're tired, but you heard me! Open the stupid door, it's cold outside!"

The island nation walked quickly over to his front door, and to his surprise, actually heard the American's voice on the other side of the door. Hurriedly, he unlocked and opened the door, revealing a soaked America.

"…Surprise?" America said, grinning widely before tackle-hugging England to the floor.

"G…Get off me, you…" England couldn't form a proper response at the moment, part from being tired, part from being surprised, and partly—make that mostly—from having his lungs crushed by America's brutish strength.

"Mm?" America asked, still grinning. "I'm sorry, couldn't hear ya!"

England just groaned and squirmed. "You're soaking wet." When America didn't budge, he raised his voice. "You're making _me_ wet."

At that, America finally had the decency to get off of the Englishman. "Heh. Sorry 'bout that. You really should get that whole 'constantly-raining-thing' taken care of, though. It's, like, _always_ raining here. Gotta be depressing, y'know?"

England just sighed. "Not that I don't appreciate the company, but might I ask why you're… here? At midnight? Dripping wet?"

"Well, I'm soaked 'cause it's raining—really, Iggy, you gotta pay more attention when people talk, I already went over this—" America started, but was immediately cut off by the island nation.

"No, I get that you're wet from the rain. But why didn't you bring an umbrella?" England asked, brushing off his clothes and sighing when he realized that he couldn't get them immediately dry.

"Oh! Right!" the American exclaimed, realizing that the door was open, then closing it gently. He turned back around to England with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Um… Weeeeell… I kind of, you know… missedyouatonandcouldn'tsleep?"

England sighed. "I couldn't hear that. You butcher my language enough as it is, America, you could at least _try_ to say things slow enough for me to understand."

The American only turned a bit pink at that. "…I… ah… Kinda missed you, you know? And I couldn't really sleep, so…"

"So you decided to take an eight hour plane ride and lord knows how long of a taxi ride to get here?" England asked, raising a thick eyebrow. "It's no wonder your economy's so bad."

"Hey, watch it, dude," America said, obviously taking a bit of offense. "I expected a little bit of a warmer welcome from ya, y'know. And maybe, like, _not_ shooting me down when I was just trying to be romantic…?"

England bit back a laugh. That was coming from the country that had commercialized Valentine's Day to the point of cheesiness? "…You? Trying to be romantic? Where's the hidden camera?" he joked, looking around briefly.

"Not funny, man." America bit his lip, looking, for a split second, hurt. "Seriously. I was just tryin' to be sweet and stuff…"

The island nation hadn't missed that flicker of hurt. "And I appreciate the gesture, America. Really, I do. I guess I'm just tired, is all." At this moment, his body had the decency to supply him with a yawn, and England reminded himself to thank God in the morning.

"Ah, I get it," America said, smiling again. "All right, all right. What kinda hero'd I be if I let my damsel in distress stay up past her bedtime, eh?"

"_For the last bloody time, America, I'm not a damsel in—"_ England started, but America, being America, was no longer listening. The American immediately picked up the island nation and proceeded up the stairs, ignoring England's curses.

Despite that, however, England was asleep almost immediately after he was set onto his bed, and America walked out soon afterwards. It wasn't as if he was tired, really. It was still four o' clock in the afternoon back in his house.

XXX

England woke up with a yawn and a smile before making his way downstairs. It took a moment to place how, exactly, America had ended up in his living room, passed out on his couch, but after a minute or two—and seeing the brand new water spots on the floor—he remembered. With a sigh, he walked over to the sleeping nation and took off America's glasses.

The blanket that he assumed America had used lay crumpled on the floor, and England tossed it back over America. England took it as evidence that the younger nation had tossed and turned quite a bit in his sleep.

Really, the Englishman thought. It was as if America had forgotten how to sleep properly.

But then, he couldn't really blame him. He'd had trouble sleeping since America had gone back to his house. So maybe… just maybe… they would work through the time zones and the jet lag later. For the time being, England was content with living in the present. It did, after all, mean that he was able to see the nation who was willing to put up with staying up as late as he could, only to crash in the wee hours of the morning.

America was so cute when he was jet-lagged, after all—even if neither of them would admit it.


End file.
